


Pretty in Pink

by lorielen (culuyetille)



Series: Malfoycest extravaganza [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Codependency, Drama, M/M, Malfoycest, PWP, Smut, Some humour, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-05
Updated: 2003-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culuyetille/pseuds/lorielen
Summary: Neither Lucius nor Draco can endure abstinence from Christmas to June. And none of them cares to bed another that not their respective choice, Malfoy lovers.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Lucius Malfoy
Series: Malfoycest extravaganza [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117862
Kudos: 5





	Pretty in Pink

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been almost six months since the last of my D/Ls… I’d started several fics with the pairing but never sat down and wrote any of them. Today I did. Hope the result is pleasant.

Draco sipped his wine calmly. It was horrid and tasted much cheaper than he had paid for it.

He shouldn’t be holding that glass, in the first place. This was a school trip. But no one except Slytherins would keep an eye on themselves and as long as they stayed away from the ‘noble’ part of Hogsmead – The Three Broomsticks, Zonko’s, the Post – there was no risk they’d stumble into any teachers or even Gryffindors. Therefore, as it as, no harm would come to Draco from drinking that wine.

Except for its terrible taste.

In contrast with his customary behaviour, the blond youth wasn’t providing entertainment to his mates. That may be due to the way his gaze, seemingly unfocused, was scanning the dimly lit tavern or simply because there were no people sitting with him.

Someone’s eyelashes were batted at him in a coquettish manner, capturing his silver stare. It was a pretty someone who could flip platinum hair in a provoking manner, and whose long dress clung just right to the tempting well-shaped hips.

Draco smirked ferally and raised his glass in a mock toast, then abandoned the cheap wine and made his way to the bar count.

The lady with the shiny eyes wore a scarf around her neck, which shadowed most of her mouth and chin from view. Parted lips were cool as they brushed against the back of Draco’s neck, a pointy nose taking in the fine scent of his hair, cinnamon and coffee, making him shiver between the long, pale arms wrapped around his lithe and angular Malfoy self.

The coins against wood, the metallic sound of keys, a discreet squeeze to Draco’s groin and the pair made their way upstairs. He elegantly allowed the whore in the pink dress to go before him so that he had a better view of the perfect, firm round arse.

When the key was turned on the door, Draco ceased to smirk and brought a hand to feel at the scarf that had been deftly thrown around his neck, immersing his sensitised self in the exquisite scent of expensive scotch and something else that Draco knew to be part of that alluring platinum-haired person’s irresistible appeal.

"You look pretty in pink, Father."

His compliment was met by a sneer, and Draco’s heart raced at that longed sight.

"Makes me look fat."

"I think you look delicious, especially with the way you were moving your hips." An amused smile. "Heels, right?"

Lucius put on his best smile as he dramatically lifted the hem of his dress to show black, sharp high heels. Draco’s mouth hung open in awe and disbelief at what he saw.

"You’re so not wearing fishnet tights."

"They’re more like stockings, actually."

He bent down to remove the laced shoes, muttering something under his breath and curling his toes experimentally, once they were free of the excruciating heels. Such a view plastered a foolish grin to Draco’s face. Upon seeing that, Lucius raised a thin blond eyebrow.

"And do not try to tell me you don’t like them, because I can see your little dragon celebrating down there."

Draco let out a soft, amused laughter then crossed the distance between his father and himself, bringing a hand to run the back of his middle and index finger over Lucius’ jawbone, eyes shining with undisguised desire mingled with something softer. When he spoke, his voice was low and deep, so much deeper than his slim and delicate frame would suggest.

"My little dragon, alright. It’s been too long, Father..."

The older male turned his head to the side just so, kissing the pinkish fingertips of his heart’s child. He was a few inches taller than his Heir, with or without heels, and found himself being looked up to, in more than one way. The warmth resultant from the clouded adoration in his son’s eyes spread throughout Lucius’ body, making the tips of his fingers tingle, and he suddenly wished to dig his nails in the youth's creamy complexion.

"You may stop holding back, Draco."

Hardly had the breath left his lips when a youthful body was draped tightly around him, a pointy face buried in the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent, holding onto him, desperately almost, body stretched, muscles delightfully tensed against Lucius’ receptive nerve ends.

"I can never fool you, can I."

Rhetorical question. Lucius breathed happily as he embraced his son, welcoming the part of him that had been ripped apart and sent away for further studying of magic, leaving him to hug himself at night in lack of the complementary pale skin.

"I _am_ your father. Besides," his long fingers stroke the younger man’s hair gently, "I do appreciate it when you need me."

"That is all the time." Draco pulled back before adding in a teasing purr, "egotist."

"Perhaps. Or maybe I just like to be sure that my own yearnings are reciprocated." A corner of his mouth twitched skywards in mild amusement and genuine enjoyment. "Whatever the reason is, you’ll have to admit that knowing you simply becomes me."

"You’re too sweet, and adorable in your smugness, which, in case you forgot, I happen to mirror most prettily."

Malfoy arrogance, Malfoy eloquence. Malfoy mutual love. Draco had missed it during his period of school confinement. He smiled luminously at his Father, proving his point.

"Be grateful, Draco. There aren’t many others I’d wear pink for." His eyes twinkled amicably.

"Does that mean I can rip those fishnets with my bare teeth?"

Draco started to work on the fastening of his Father’s dress.

"Your mother would kill us."

"Aw..." Draco’s disappointed mewl, together with the light brush of fingers against Lucius’ spine, made the older male shiver. Their gazes remained locked together. "Suppose I can’t destroy these buttons either."

A small silence followed, Lucius’ hands feeling up and down the lean muscles over the thin bones on Draco’s back as the younger Malfoy’s deft hands worked on trying to remove the pink garment. Lucius rested his chin on the light-boned shoulder and allowed himself to just bask in his son’s presence, the characteristic smell of him, cinnamon and coffee, the soft texture of his fine hair, the small sounds he absent-mindedly let out in his concentration.

How perfectly he fit against his father’s own body. He tilted his head to the side and planted a kiss against the curve of the boy’s neck.

There were many little buttons, neck to the curve of Lucius’ arse, and simply having his father pressed up against him as he slid each pearl out of its pinkish house awoke Draco’s nerve ends, making them sensitive to the hands sliding under his shirt and the nails ranking against his side, softly, a caress almost. He breathed harder against the back of the older male’s neck, his member half-aroused and beginning to strain against his pants, reminding him of just how awfully long it had been.

He pulled back to look at Lucius as he eased the dress from his father.

"I was delighted with your idea to meet."

Slim, manicured fingers dig into his hair as his head was cupped and the tip of Lucius’ nose touched his own pointy one.

"Did you really think we wouldn’t see each other until the end of June?"

“You couldn’t possibly not want me for that long.” Draco’s voice bore that edge of smugness that Lucius found lovely to see in his little mirror front.

“My dear boy,” Lucius’ fingers were whisper soft in their caress to his son’s cheekbones, and his drawl was hoarser than it should, “were we to meet every time I’ve wanted you, you’d never have packed.”

Draco leaned upwards, arms sneaking around his father’s waist, pulling him closer as his lips sought Lucius’ for a hot kiss that made it clear that he was very glad they hadn’t stuck with what was meant to be. But then, when had they ever?

His father tasted familiar, felt so right sucking at his lower lip, just too right hardening against his stomach, and Draco moaned his content state as his mouth was invaded by a possessive and exploring tongue that battled its own in the slippery and wet way snakes would. His pleasure was sultry inside him as he was embraced, brought close, wanted close, needed.

Mouth still taken by Lucius, he whimpered his longing as fishnet-clad toes teased at his left ankle; he could feel all too well the friction of his stiffened cock against his father’s through the thin cloth of his linen trousers, and buried his nails in Lucius’ bare shoulders, hoping they’d sting as much as his arousal.

"Hmmm, so deliciously vocal..."

He was to be petted.

The sound of the clasp of his trousers being undone echoed in Draco’s mind, making him twitch under his father’s skilled hands, making his movements less graceful than usual as he hurriedly stepped out of his lowered trousers and pants under the man’s gaze, that held inspection and delight in equal quantities. His hands held a bottle of lube, he noticed, and could have squirmed in anticipation.

Instead Draco hissed his frustration as the older Malfoy nipped on the sensitive skin behind his ear, undoing the buttons of his shirt with deliberate and unnerving slowness, neglecting his needy member, pinching each nipple between expert lips and leaving him to tremble softly in his want against the leverage of the room’s dirty wall. The man’s long fingers around his waist, tracing the rise of his arse; he was panting. The distant sound of something being unscrewed, and there seemed to be lava running under Draco’s skin. Then there were the slimy fingertips gently parting his cheeks to scratch at the sensitive inner skin.

Every brush of Lucius’ hands against his son’s skin was infinite in its love and eroticism, and fuck but he needed it, it took him away from everything and made him feel so sublimely alive. He wondered whether he was put in the world so that he could play Draco that way, strike the right chords to achieve such beautiful reactions, and he felt achieved. The youth’s hungry responses to his touch were perfectly fitting to what he knew his father wanted and deserved. Just the same, it was not an effort for Lucius to please his son; of that was composed his very nature.

Rapture overcame Draco and he parted lips in the soundless echo of a moan, when the first digit was rammed inside him up to the knuckle.

The sounds lingered in his throat at the older male’s choice as the digit inside him was brought in and out; he rolled his eyes and all he could see was silver, all he wanted is the creamy paleness that they shared, Lucius and he. The muscles in his insides involuntarily clamped and the pressure to the fingers made a fingernail dig in that gland, to which he swallowed a breathless moan.

Tight, unbelievably tight and hot as always. Lucius let out a low moan of his own upon having his finger embodied in the familiar haven of Draco’s smooth crevice, and he slid another finger in, fucking his son in the earnest, changing the angle to hit the spot he knew by heart.

Draco’s youthful libido dripped from his every pore: his body became covered in sweat and his breath rhythmically failed him as he let out the melodious evidence of his anal pleasure. His hardened cock needed no other lubricant than its own abundant juices at the rubbing of that delightful little spot inside himself, which he was sure must bear Lucius’ digital imprints. His father could make him wet, hard and languid, rocking back against the fingers, whimpering at the one who shared his fall from grace that he... please... did... not... sssstop.

He realised he had hissed that out loud at the removal of the fingers, and his wants had remained non-catered to by his father, who seemed all too busy with licking tease at his now sore and purple nipples.

"I want you to... choke very... very much right now." The younger Malfoy’s voice was harsh and heavy with mild resentment at the teasing as he glared at the top of his father’s blond head.

"Use your tongue." The voice somewhere close to his stomach, and his arousal twitched again.

"I’d rather you... used yours."

Draco pushed his father’s head down, feeling the man’s soft breath travel down his body as a trail of fire over his delicate skin. He was too aware of the sudden flush of blood to his face, colouring his cheekbones, and smirked at the knowledge that, were Lucius to look up at him, he’d think him irresistible. He arched forward the smallest bit, removing his shirt and throwing it aside in careless abandon.

A small but loud kiss to his inner thights brought his attention to the lack of touch to his throbbing cock and pounding arsehole, and the spidery hands holding his hips against the wall, his skin burning where his father touched it. He looked down between the strands of his damp hair to watch silver cascade down Lucius’ shoulders and back, caressing his taunt muscles, brushing against the popping veins of Draco’s leaking member.

The mere sight of his father’s head so painfully close to the parts of him that craved the touch so badly made him wiggle his hips forward.

He was firmly held back by Lucius, whose longish nails were dug on the milky and flawless skin that gloved his tense muscles, spilling the smallest hint of blood to colour his pale perfection.

"Now, now, Draco, ask nicely."

The warm breathing against his sensitised testicles made Draco tug childishly at his father’s hair in raw and overwhelming need, and Lucius couldn’t help thinking how pretty the pinkish tone to his son’s cheeks was. It had been too long, simply too long.

"Can’... want you in me."

"Sure?" A whisper and evil lapping at his balls, the thumbs rubbed against his thighs, making his skin reddish.

Draco gathered his strength and breath before speaking, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at his father.

"I’ll come in your face if you touch my cock and I want to climax with you in me."

With a final and daring kiss to the head of his son’s prick, Lucius sled to a standing position, his eyes glittering with fondness and pride.

"You make blunt sound sexy, Draco."

The hint of a smirk and he pinned Draco’s wrists against the wall to either side of his head and crushed the youth’s body with his own, the full body contact bringing to the boy just how hard he was himself, his fishnet tights rough against Draco’s smooth skin, crashing his lips against his son’s in a lustful and hungry kiss.

"And I can always make you come again."

He kept his eyes on Draco’s arousal-tinged face, watching the parted lips quiver in sheer want as moved his hips, rubbing their erections together. He held Draco against the wall as his son squirmed under him and let out unnamed wet and libidinous sounds, thanking his father for the friction and cursing it alike. Arching into the older man and biting down on his upper lip, chewing out Lucius’ name in choked gasps as he finally broke free of the hold and brought a hand to yank hard at the older male’s hair.

The spasms of Draco’s orgasm pressed all the right buttons on Lucius, who couldn’t but mirror his son’s culmination, just as he did with the love and adoration that Draco had for him. He moaned his lover’s name as aristocratic fingers were wrapped around his cock, stroking him into emptying himself against the perfect body in front of his own.

They remained pressed up against each other, foreheads touching, their come sticky between their sweaty bodies, their breath harsh and irregular, heartbeats accelerated and easy for each of them to feel in the other’s pulsating chest.

A delicate hand of Draco’s cupped his father’s face, his touch gentle as the batting of butterfly wings, soft as the kiss he bestowed to the man’s chin.

"Still want you inside me."

Lucius opened his eyes to meet his son’s smile, and he grinned back, light-headed and too aware of the light and affection-flooded touches of Draco’s.

"We should get to the bed, then."

"Are your knees giving out, too?"

Just how much he had missed it. Small talk. Small touches. Immeasurable love. So much his Draco.

"I want to take these damned things out. They itch."

"Allow me."

Draco dropped down to his knees in the boneless grace of felines, hands feeling at his father’s shoulders, nipples, flat stomach and hips as he went down. Lucius just stared at him, noticing the elegant shape of his fingers and the perfect state of his nails, as the fishnet stockings were carefully lowered. He stepped out of them, and damn, his legs were marked.

And then he didn’t care anymore because Draco was on his fours, pointy shoulder against his father’s leg and nipping at the skin behind the man’s knee, and a jolt made it to Lucius’ groin as he found that anywhere Draco chose to touch him would be officially a pleasure-bringing spot.

"Draco..." He couldn’t stop staring down at the smooth curve of his son’s arse, words taken away by the sudden and very vivid image of the young man humping his leg, and he groaned inwardly, trying to ban it, as the base of his spine stung in time with Draco’s evil harassing of his skin. "The bed." And, as an afterthought and sounding a lot more like a father than he thought he could while being aroused helpless, he added. "You’ll get carpet-burns."

Draco rose to his feet, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, Father."

His eyes shimmered briefly at Lucius and the older man let his fingers entangle with Draco’s and followed the youth’s steps towards the bed. As Draco lay on his side, still facing his father, his gaze was serene and expectant.

He wasn’t just the Silver Dragon, it went deeper. He was the Devil’s Dragon, and oh he so loved it. Loved the ownership his Father exerted over him, in ways that were pleasing and hurtful alike but above all absolute. Constant.

He was Lucius’ own and was proud of that. His mind, body, heart and soul belonged to the elder Malfoy and Draco didn’t wish but to keep that. To keep the treasured closeness, the wet whispers, the touch sultry in its heat, the passion that was what it was all about.

He didn’t think he could ever bed another that not his Lucius.

The familiarity of the expression made it clear to him to what degree it all went. His Lucius. His father, his lover. He didn’t want another, didn’t care to have any other. Others were bellow himself, others knew not how to please him. Others he did not long to please.

The need of Lucius was rooted in Draco’s heart, for it was as old as the Heir himself. For that his smile was soft and easy as he extended his arms, welcoming the feel of his father’s body against his own, wrapping limp and slim arms and legs around him.

He leaned forward, shifting himself down on the bed, and began to lick his come from his father’s chest, lazily, savouring it as much as the sounds he was dragging from the man’s throat.

“Like to hear obscenities, don’t you.”

He nuzzled against his father’s externum, the hollow of his throat, his pretty, outlined collarbones.

Lucius’s piercing eyes scanned his child’s face; he knew that tone, knew it all too well. It was Draco’s Wicked Tone, which meant he had the most enjoyable devilry in mind and was about to voice it, to his father’s own pleasure.

“Do share each and every wish.”

“First, I want you to mark me.”

An inquiring batting of greyish lashes, and Draco purred his explanation.

“I want them to know I’ve been fucked out of my mind.”

“But you haven’t, just yet.” Lucius pointed out, tracing lazy and arcane designs against his son’s chest with a fingernail.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll see to that soon enough.”

Lucius smiled his amusement before leaning forward to oblige, teeth and lips leaving their purplish crest on Draco’s cheekbone, and the beauty of his son’s mauled perfection did not fail to amaze him as it always had.

His hand rested possessively at the small of Draco’s back, his eyes flickering, watching the younger man’s own eyes and the kiss-swollen, whorish, ever so desirable lips. He kissed back when the lips brushed softly against his own, and let himself be kissed adoringly all over his face, neck, his ear shell be licked and his balls be fondled. Draco was skilled at working him up for a second round, all in smooth touches and delicate licking, liquid and warm against his body. He let his child play him to his own ends and wishes, all but content to be under those hands.

Lucius’ eyes were opened in confusion at the sudden missing warmth of Draco against him, and his newly awoken arousal demanded attention.

“Draco..?”

But before he could roll over to look around, he felt the mattress lowering with the familiar weight of his son crawling on the bed. He lifted his head, eyebrow lifted in an unspoken question as to why had Draco left. By means of an answer, the youth showed him the lube, and offered an apologetic and winning smile. Lucius chuckled away his paranoia at the lack of his son, and smiled appreciatively at the lovely view that his son made, on all fours as he was.

He slipped one hand down, twitching his body scandalously, purring and making a scene of touching himself in an inviting and evoking manner.

“So… you had an idea…?”

Draco wanted it. Wanted to be on all goddamned fours and feel Lucius rubbing against him, and plead and beg in the least ashamed, less chaste way that his father would just deign to enter him, and yet the man wouldn’t do it, and his longing would be so strong that there’d no room for anything else inside him and he’d barely be able to breathe. He’d draw air inside in short, hushed takes. He’d writhe before Lucius and the elder Malfoy would remain his very own, lord of himself, only to end up needing Draco too bad himself to care about any sort of pride or games.

However, not even a Malfoy could put that into words, and so Draco just smirked darkly and spread his legs a bit, making his voice low.

“I’m already playing my part at it, Lucius.”

The older male was visibly affected by the suggestion, but soon enough he was smirking back and on his knees, going over to where his desire lay so alluring before his eyes, popped on knees and elbows, the beautiful face hidden, for his forehead rested against the forearms.

Each fall of a knee of Lucius’ against the mattress seemed to drag as slowly as the months he had spent without his son. Every bit of the searing pain in his chest, the frosting lack of his lover, the sour absence of the one he didn’t mind reaching out to cuddle after sex.

He positioned himself behind Draco, then reached for the lube just beside him. The cool moisture made him hold his breath for a second as he spread it efficiently over his cock, hard anew. His hands felt at the firmness of his son’s arse before parting his cheeks. He leaned forward to plant a reverent kiss on the youth’s spine, sending tingles all the way to Draco’s elbows as the head of his precum-slick member pressed against his son’s maddeningly tight hole.

Draco shivered beneath his hands, and Lucius knew as well as though he were bellow his son that Draco was biting at his lower lip. That image brought a smile to his lips and he reached beneath the younger male, between his legs, finding his member. Draco gasped at his touch, the new heavenly torture, because he could rub his son right, make him feel so good, he’d always known how to, was the only one who could do it and knew that Draco didn’t wish any other ever could.

His fingers were skilled and playful and they knew their way with his son’s arousal. He felt for the veins, his touch is so soft that it felt like an ethereal dream that could vanish at any moment, and right after it was a sudden squeeze to the base of Draco’s cock and Lucius was rewarded with a groan. He started stroking, still not inside the youth, but pressing against him nevertheless.

Draco was panting by now, torso arched, and pushing back slightly, desperately wanting to impale himself on his father’s member but not moving accordingly, restraining himself with grace and pride that weren’t but Malfoy and a mirror of Lucius’ own stubbornness that kept him from entering his son already, even though they both craved it, had missed it terribly, had needed each other’s soothing and loving touch so very much over the awful winter.

“Father…”

His voice was weak in a plea, no games, no teasing. That Lucius would just see to the need that enslaved the both of them, chaining each to his male, blond, pointy, arrogant and beautiful counterpart.

Ever obliging to his wants, his father pushed inside of him, moaning aloud his pleasure and welcome. Draco’s own hands fisted the sheets and he moved his hips, light-headed with the tidal wave of pleasure being delivered to his member and anus alike, and he moved accordingly, breathing out sounds that spoke wordlessly of his state, his frightening need of his father.

Draco’s emotions and actions were frantic, hectic, and his love had always been this havoc, always overwhelmingly intense when it involved Lucius.

The older man’s hipbones dug into the cheeks of Draco’s arse as Lucius bucked against him again and again, his rhythm welcomed and matched by his son, mimicked by the hand working at the youth’s arousal. His mind had gone blissfully blank for once, and all that there was was Draco, his Draco, breathing hard in time with him, forever tight as Lucius needed him to be, letting out the small noises that his father read as his approach to climax.

He teased at the small hole on the head of his son’s member with his thumbnail, and the ring of muscle contracted around his cock sending right up Lucius’ spine the most wonderful urge to dig his nails on Draco’s back as they made love. Make the youth even more his, lick at the reddish evidence of their unbreakable bond.

Lucius panted his love and want against his son’s arched back. He wanted Draco more than he could, loved him so much more than he should.

“Father…”

“My Draco…”

It was Lucius who came first, his seed spilling hot and hard against the inner walls of his son’s arse, and he thrust repeatedly, emptying himself inside the impossibly tightened hole, his hand stroking Draco reflexively and eventually bringing the younger male his own release.

Draco always screamed. His muscles clamped again around his father as the man milked every last drop of semen out of his swollen member.

Lucius eased himself out and let his body lay on the bed, breathing hard and tiredly, tingling because he missed the other Malfoy against himself. Soon enough that was rectified as Draco crawled over to him before collapsing, eyelashes casting long shadows over his high cheekbones, prettily tinged in pink.

It hardly mattered who reached out first; in no time they were a tangle of pale and exquisitely shaped limbs, nuzzling affectionately against each other and muttering low insignificances. Once again, Lucius rested a reassuring and possessive hand on the small of his son’s back. Draco rested his cheek against the older man’s chest, breath tickling smoothly at Lucius’ left nipple.

They could not sleep together. They would not wake up together. Not for another few months.

Neither of them cared to dedicate any of their precious time together to mourning their recently-broken and imminent parting; instead they just breathed each other’s scent. They smelled the same, now. Scotch, cinnamon, coffee, come and Malfoy. And they loved it.


End file.
